The Man Who Dean Is
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Who is Dean Winchester exactly? What are the moments that made him? When Sam Winchester goes out with Dean to celebrate his thirty-eighth birthday he was counting on a wild time, but even he wasn't counting on this! Birthday!fic for Dean Winchester
1. Chapter 1

Today is a week until Dean Winchester's birthday. So I'm going ahead and starting to post the chapters of this fiction so I can post the last one of the 24th.

This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

The Man Who Dean Is

Chapter .1.

It was Dean's birthday. The sun rose and bathed the cold earth in a warm glow. Not that this mattered from within the bunker. Sam stood in the doorway of his brother's bedroom, doing what Dean would have called his creepy stalker stare. Dean was snoring his way through a serious hangover.

Sam frowns.

Drunk and hungover on his birthday. It wasn't like Dean forgot, they had discussed plans the night before for that evening. Sam had found proof of his brother's binge in the library sitting on the table; a shot glass and a tall empty bottle of fine whiskey. He hadn't even tried to cover his tracks.

"You...drunk!" Sam mutters, for lack of better insult.

Dean mumbles and rubs the side of his face deeper into his pillow. Sam marvels at the peaceful and guilt free slumber Dean is enjoying. Sam never slept good after getting drunk. He felt awful and irresponsible, and slept poorly. AND had a killed hangover. Not Dean, oh no. Dean's body was perfectly adapted and accustomed to alcohol and its effect. Dean drank for those simple affects...good rest, forgetfulness.

Sam supposes there's no reason Dean should especially want to celebrate his birthday, but he couldn't really think of a reason not to. Sure as kids they had never had any really good birthdays, but he didn't remember any REALLY bad ones. Hunters could always celebrate surviving one more year.

Sam sat in the chair at the desk and contemplated his brother. Dean Winchester. 6 feet, 2 inches, 190lbs. A lot of man. Sam was bigger, but then, Sam was REALLY big. Dean lay sprawled in the very center of his bed. He wore nothing more than jeans and thick wool socks. The blanket was pulled over his legs and torso. He looked young and carefree. Not at all the hardened killer, Sam knew he could be. Not at all the drunk he was at the moment.

Sam found himself looking back on his brother's life. What were the moments that made Dean Winchester than man he was? The selfless brother, the faithful friend, the fearless warrior. Sam thought uneasily about all the holes in Dean's past that he still knew nothing about. The two years he was in Stanford, the years he was a baby, when he was too wrapped up in school and puberty to pay Dean any mind.

He thought sickly that during the two years he was at Stanford Dean began to solo hunt. All the dangers and disasters he had been open to were nauseating, and Sam knew nothing of what had taken place. John had abandoned him...Sam had abandoned him...to add to Sam's distress Dean had admitted he spent most of his younger years raising and protecting Sammy. By sixteen he was almost extensively hunting with his father, and helping with the research.

Sam could think of many moments over the last ten years that had shaped his brother's character, but who was the man that came before? The man that came for him at Stanford, the man who was willing to let him go back just so he would be happy? Who was the man that blindly followed their father out of love and loyalty? Who was the man that worshipped, lived by the memory of his mother? Where did this loyal, loving, ruthless being originate? Who was this man with the expert mask covering the soft, hurting, guilty conscience and heart.

Sam couldn't always see that man, even though he lived with him twenty-four-seven, and was rarely apart from him. It took a lot to peel all the layers back to get to the original Dean, and most of the time it took surreal pain. But as Dean slumbered Sam saw that man, that character, that being that had been present since Mary had birthed her first son. What infinite love, Sam thought.

What infinite sorrow.

Sam almost couldn't handle the burden of the revelation into his brother's soul. He felt tears coming to his eyes, a trembling come to his hands. The number one thing he saw reflected from his brother's soul on his face was pain. His walls dropped and restraints loosened Sam saw what kept his brother tense and closed up all the time. He drank so he could sleep peacefully while his body enjoyed a reprieve from all the strain it took to hide it, to suffer through that pain.

Another year yet alive, another year of pain to bear. No wonder Dean drank. Sam sat numbly watching his brother for a long while. Sam loved his brother, he knew he was Dean's world. He always hoped he brought joy and contentedness to Dean's life. It always hurt him at the times when it was made obvious to him that he could never truly give Dean peace.

He broke from his daze as Dean stirred and threw an arm over his face and stretched, free arm stretching way over his head. He moaned and then froze; the hand thrown over his head slipped under the pillow. Sam thought too slowly to warn his brother it was just him before he got shot. Lucky for him, Dean moved the arm from his face and peered at the supposed threat.

Dean groaned and threw his head back into the pillow.

"Damnit, Sammy," he rubs a hand over his face. "I could have shot you." He looks around to find a reason for Sam's presence.

"You were doing it, weren't you?" He asks, voice more gravelly from sleep.

"What?" Sam asks innocently, spreading his hands.

"Doing that creepy stalker stare, WHILE I'M ASLEEP. It's not natural, Sam."

Sam smirks as Dean props himself up on his elbows,"How're you feeling?" He half hopes Dean is sick for getting drunk after he went to bed.

"I'm fine," Dean returns standardly, he gives Sam an upraising look. "Why're you asking?"

"You should have a killer hangover, Dean." He answers. "A whole bottle, really?"

Dean falls back onto the bed and rubs both hands over his stubbly jaw. "Its my birthday Sam, save the sermon for tomorrow."

"I don't really feel like waiting, Dean," Sam growls.

"Well, at least wait until my birthday's over," Dean grumbles.

"Alright," and Sam couldn't help but smile, "12:00 tonight."

"Agreed," Dean mutters from under his arms which are protecting his eyes from the light.

"So are we still going out tonight, or are you gonna be..." Sam watches as Dean sits up, feet hanging off the end of his mattress.

"I am golden, Sammy, what time is it?"

Sam consults his watch, "Making its way towards eight o'clock."

"Oh yeah," Dean rises and to Sam's amazement stood straight and tall not even hinting at dizziness, "Seven hours of sleep, I'm set for the rest of my life."

"Dean," Sam follows him to the bathroom and leans in the doorway as Dean washes his face and brushes the taste of old liqueur out of his mouth, "That's not even that good a night's sleep."

Dean brushes past Sam and makes his way to the kitchen after grabbing a shirt, "You know the last time I slept that long?"

Sam follows like he tends to, "Uh, the night before last," he snarks back.

Dean walks into the kitchen stretching and reaching for coffee filters, "No, when I was dead, smartass."

Sam flinches.

Dean pretends he doesn't see.

He pours water into the coffee maker and sets out two cups, Sam grabs milk, cereal, two bowls, two spoons. They sit over breakfast in companionable silence with steaming cups of coffee and newspapers, Sam scans the internet for weird deaths, something up their alley.

He thanks his lucky stars, they find nothing.

...

By five o'clock Dean was showered and ready, somehow avoiding a phenomenal hangover. Sam watches in awe as he appears in the library clad in dark jeans and a button down navy blue dress shirt, he seems to feel better than ever. He sits down across from Sam and pulls on his boots, then props them up on the opposite chair to tie them. Sam watches as he pulls cash out of his wallet, counts it, and then carefully places it back in with painful perfection. Sam had seen their father do this before a thousand times, he smiles.

"You ready, Sammy?" Dean asks, pulling on his navy blue jacket.

Sam watches Dean as they climb into the Impala, and his brother cranks her up and they speed down the highway towards the city lights on the horizon. His brother radiated an excitement more like nervous energy, Sam wonders why he would get drunk if he looked forward to his birthday? Then Dean was always a mystery, only Dean would find some sort of celebratory joy in getting stoned. Sam realizes he knew little about Dean's latter birthdays. He could only recollect a handful in his childhood. He has no idea what his brother likes to do on his birthday, even what he prefers other than burgers, booze, and, women.

"So..." he lets out a breath, "...What are we gonna do?"

"I know you've got plans, Sammy." Dean shot back, pushing a tape into the cassette player.

"You sly dog!" Sam states, sitting up straighter and looking at Dean closer.

Dean smiles amiably, "No, you sly dog!" He returns. "But just for the record I didn't look where, just when.

"I will hate Frank Deveroue for the rest of my life for making you a guru." Sam bitches as Dean rolls down his window and turns the music up.

"Good old Frank," he shouts back to Sam before belting out to AC/DC.

Sam groans, but follows suit, rolling down his window and managing to know a few words before the song ended and Dean had turns the music to a background hum.

"So Sammy, need directions." He drawls as they turn into town, and their speed reduces miserably.

"Oh yeah, hold up." Sam types in the restaurant name into his GPS on his phone. "Here ya go," he hands over the phone to Dean.

"Ah, nice The Black Stirrup."

"You been there?" Sam asks, a little disappointed.

"Nah Sammy, keep your shirt on, only heard about it. All good things though." He shoots Sam a million dollar smile and takes a scary left turn earning several annoyed honks.

"Dean! Careful, you don't want a ticket on your birthday, do you?" Sam scolds, looking over his shoulder making sure, everyone was okay and that no police were in sight.

"When else do you want to get ticket, Sam? Face it, your birthday is the only time its actually really worth it!" He laughs after his reasoning and waves to some girls whose stares find his face and follow it down the street.

"Your incorrigible," Sam states, but finds himself hopelessly smiling. Because he envisioned them having a good time but this was well beyond any type of good mood he'd seen Dean in for a long time.

Come to think of it Sam couldn't remember the last time he had been with Dean on his birthday. The last time he remembered especially celebrating it was the year before he went to hell. After that there was no time to celebrate between apocalypses, soulless brothers, heaven and hell treaties, leviathans, purgatory, trials, Abbadon, Metatron, Mark of Cain, and now, the Darkness. How after all these years even with the Darkness breathing down their necks Sam has found time to spend Dean's birthday with him he has no idea.

But people change, especially Winchesters, and especially after all these hard years. If Sam had learned anything it was take what good with Dean he could get so when the bad came he has something to fight for.

Sam is laughing again and it feels so good. Dean is beside him heaping abuses on his phone, "Stupid phone," he says and throws it towards Sam's lap. "I can find this place on my own."

And Sam has no doubt that Dean has already memorized the route and would get them there faster without having to hassle with the phone. He grabs the phone and shuts it down. He slides it into his pocket as Dean pulls into the parking lot of The Black Stirrup.

Dean lets out a whistle, "Going all out for my b-day, Sammy, I hear you."

Sam doesn't bother to respond as Dean stops next to a nicely dressed man standing waiting. Then man leans down to Dean's window, "Mr. Winchester?"

Sam relishes the look of surprise on Dean's face and chuckles at the suspicious glance Dean sends his way, "Yeah?"

"Valet, sir. And my I say sir, it would be an honor to drive your vehicle, quite a cherry ride sir."

Dean smiles at the comment, but sends a nervous glance Sam's way.

"Dean, he's not gonna' take the impala for a joy ride, he's got plenty of other cars to park,don't you?" He asks, smiling up at the valet through Dean's window.

"Yes sir," he looks back to Dean, "Let me assure you sir, the restaurant takes full responsibility of customers vehicles while they are inside, sir."

"Alright, alright" Dean finally concedes, getting out of the car, "But only because your making me feel old with all the sirs."

The valet laughs and bows in thanks, "Have a lovely evening, Gentlemen."

"Will do," Sam says as he and Dean are ushered through the double doors.

"Good evening, Gentlemen." A brunette in a purple cocktail dress with two menus in hand addresses them. "I'm Chelssie, I'll be taking care of you tonight, please follow me this way to your table."

Dean gives Sam an impressed look as he follows after her, Sam is impressed by Dean's lack of flirting, this was not what he was expecting.

Chelssie leads them to the back of the restaurant, past a bar in the middle of the big room built in a square, and up several steps to a section that is quieter and obviously for VIP guests. She ushers them into a small booth up against the wall with deep leather finished bench seats, and slides their menus in front of them.

Sam knows he's scored with this place as Dean's hand lingers over the seat and he flashes him a smile.

"Your reserved wine will be coming with your main course, gentlemen, can I interest you in anything to drink in the mean time?" Chelssie asks.

Dean sends Sam a surprised glance, but Sam merely smiles, "I'll take whatever's on draft, Chelssie."

She smiles and looks at Dean, who looks her dead in the eye and says, "I'd love a Pina Colada sweetheart, do I need to go to the bar or can you get that for me?"

Sam's mouth falls open and he stares at Dean, quickly muttering the basic latin exorcism under his breath.

Dean smirks at him.

Chelssie smiles, "I can personally vouch for our Pina Colada. And yes, I can get that for you, would you like the fruit with that?"

Sam stares shocked as Dean answers with ease, "Oh yeah, sweetie, the whole nine yards."

"Alright guys," Chelssie returns, "I'll be right back with those for you."

Sam watches her retreating form wondering over his brother's drink choice.

"Don't break your head, Sammy." Dean snarks, and laughs a little, and pulls the collar of his shirt down, "Tattoo in tact, I'm still with you, little brother."

"A cocktail drink, really Dean?" He asks, incredulously looking at his brother.

Dean doesn't defend himself but instead, "Sammy, this place is rad," looking around, and then turns sparkling emerald eyes to him, "Thank you."

Sam finds himself blushing under Dean's intense stare, "It's nothing Dean."

"No Sam, I really appreciate it, like best ever." He smiles and sits way back in his seat.

"I just..." Sam pauses.

"You just what?" Dean presses gently.

"I regret not being with you on this day more, like in the past." He looks down ashamed, but Dean grabs his hand where its sitting on the table.

"Hey Sammy, look at me." Sam raises his eyes hesitantly. "Hey, I haven't been there for every one of your birthdays either."

"You've been there for more," Sam retorts.

"But that's not what counts, we're here, and alive right now and that's pretty huge Sam, thank you for celebrating with me." He smiles and Sam can't help it, he's go that infectious big brother comfort smile painted on his stupid face, Sam laughs and looks away for a few seconds.

Dean leans across the table and gives a comforting pat the the side of his neck and Sam is reminded of when he was last given that particular comfort, when Dean had been dying in his arms...

Thankfully Chelssie is returning with their drinks and Sam recovers as Dean does the talking, she leaves them with some suggestions for entrees that Sam doesn't really hear. He watches as Dean sips the sweet drink out of the tall glass, the rim hidden in pineapples, cherries, and mint leaves. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture, Dean only making a slightly bitchy face.

"Sonuvabitch!" Dean exclaims.

"What?" Sam asks, alarmed, looking around.

"That is the best freaking Pina Colada I've had in all my very long 38 years, and trust me Sam, I've been a lot of places."

Sam laughs, but just looks at Dean incredulously, clearly asking WTF is going on Dean?

Dean sighs and just explains already, "It was mom's favorite drink, Sam." He looks down, and laughs nervously. "I remember her getting it a few times, one time on my birthday, must a been my fourth. We were sitting in a restaurant that had some rinky dink bar and she ordered one, let me taste it..I loved it. From there it just turned into a good memory, made me feel closer to her on my birthday."

Sam swallows convulsively and watches Dean's eyes fill, Dean looks away again. "Seem's like a little thing, but you remember all the little things when its cut off all the sudden, you know?"

He looks back up straight into Sam's eyes and gives a watery smile, "So every birthday since twenty-one, and a few before that too, Pina Colada for me."

The moment is past, Dean is flashing his birthday grin again, but Sam pulls the glass over and takes a long sip of the fruity drink. He and Dean's eyes meet and for a brief second, the hole that an absent mother left is filled, and they both know her in a way that most people wouldn't understand. Drinking something she liked, keeping a tradition she started, being the legacy she left behind, they are with Mary Winchester...for a brief second.

Then Chelssie is back all smiles and the boys break eye contact and the moment is over.

"Alright, y'all guys ready for entrees?" She asks smiling and Dean returns it wooing her in a heart beat.

They order entrees, Sam some tortilla chips and fresh guacamole and Dean fried spinach balls with tzatziki sauce. Sam didn't know Dean knew what tzatziki sauce was. Then they launched into a very long and detailed debate as to whether chicken or lamb gyros were the best. In the end Sam was still of the opinion that chicken was better, but then, he figures if he could get Dean to eat anything other than beef he was doing just fine.

As Chelssie and another male waiter brought over their entrees and glasses of water an old man is seated across the VIP seating area from them. The boys notice because of his rather plain attire, brown slack pants a striped sweater vest, bow tie and white hair and beard. Over all he doesn't look like he could afford this place, but then Sam supposed he and Dean didn't look that way either.

The older man looks around the room slowly, eyes lighting on Dean and they pause, they slid to Sam, and slid back to Dean, needless to say he was getting Sam's hackles up, setting off all his alarms. Across the table Dean makes eye contact with the older man and nods his head politely. If he's having any of the same feelings he's not showing it. Sam decides to breathe and enjoy his night off while he can get it.

When Dean puts the first spinach ball dipped in tzatziki sauce in his mouth he thinks he's very possibly died and gone to heaven. He groans in delight deep in his throat and Sam gives him a reprimanding glare. Dean ignores him, quickly popping another in his mouth and has the very distinct thought, BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER. IN. MY. WHOLE. FREAKING. LIFE. He knew it wasn't over yet, not even really started but those things...

"Dean, you realize you're doing that out loud?" Sam asks, smirking over his HUGE plate of chips and guac.

"Oh my god, Sam! This is soooo good, like good, like first time driving the impala good, like first time-"

"Yeah! Oh, oh, okay! Good...I get it." Sam chuckles, "Here, let me have some." He reaches over and is surprised when Dean allows him to.

"Okay, but only one, if you want more, you have to get your own," he watches Sam's face expectantly and when the anticipated look of bliss crosses his face, "Huh? I told you, good right?"

"Dean, you have to give me more..."

"No way Jose," Dean laughs, jerking the plate away from Sam.

"Dean..." he whines, going full operation PDE. (puppy dog eyes)

"NO." Dean says, pointing at him sternly, "No, puppy dog eyes allowed on my birthday. Look, here's Chelssie." He smiles his biggest smile at her, "Hey Sweetie, can we get some of these for Sam, please."

Speaking of puppy dog eyes, Sam knows Dean's got them too. They just weren't hazel like his. And he was by no means immune, those great-big, glimmering, all-to-feminine, heartbreaking shining lights staring up at you like you're the center of their universe and if you let them down their whole world will fall away to dust. He was by no means surprised when Chelssie took his plate and whisked it away saying they would replace it free of charge.

Dean sat look very proud of himself.

Chelssie cleared their entree dishes away and for them main course Sam ordered a piece of salmon with a tomato-mango salsa and garlic creamed potatoes. While Dean seemed to have stuck on the lamb idea and ordered a full wrack of lamb chops, and asparagus.

"You eat asparagus?" Sam asked, looking very doubtful. "You know what asparagus is?"

"SAM...please tell me you've had asparagus before?" Dean was making the same face he'd made when Sam had told him he'd never been to a live rock concert before. Like your life is incomplete and absolutely pointless.

"Well," he says sheepishly, "Its not like I've had lamb chops before either."

"Sam," Dean says, face completely serious, "I have failed you as a brother."

Sam laughs.

Dean laughs too, "I may not eat well all the time Sam, but I know how to eat with class."

"Are you actually bragging about knowing something superior to middle class?" Sam crooks an eyebrow at his brother.

"I'm not saying I'm expert on high living Sam, but good food is good food, everyone should have a chance to REALLY eat." Dean smiles at his brother and sucks at his Pina Colada again and it struck Sam how absolutely at home he was in this fancy place, completely confident sipping a ladies drink out of a straw, ordering some of the finest meat in the restaurant and nodding respectfully at old men. This was a whole side of Dean Sam didn't know.

Suddenly he wants to.

"How many places you ever been to like this, Dean?" He asks casually. Motioning around the entire room to include every single bit of grandeur in the room.

"Hm..." Dean thinks for a moment, "A few. 'Specially, in Vegas and New York. AND...let me tell you, there are dandy places in Orleans, gah, Sam, some day I'll take you there little brother, show you a real good time." Dean's eyes took on that faraway look again, and Sam almost fancies he can see memories reflecting in his glistening eyes like in movies.

"Tell me about the best," he says, eagerly leaning forward. "After all it's your birthday, tell me about some of the ones I've missed."

"Well," Dean laughs, "It's crazy the places you go for a Pina Colada in January." Sam laughs and watches a thousand memories fly across his brother's face as he searches for the best one.

"You should have seen dad's face the first time I ordered one in front of him!" He laughs and so does Sam, he can't picture how shocked John must have been.

Dean sighs, and Sam is sad to see so little joy coming from his memories, "You know Sam I've been to a lot of fine places to get that drink, but mostly I don't remember. After having that drink, thinking of her, mom, knowing that she could never be proud of the man I've become, most of the time I just got drunk. Woke up not really knowing how I got there or what happened. But I always remember that feeling, being close to her, almost feeling her there with me."

"Dean," Sam said softly, "Mom would be proud of you, hell, I bet she is. You think word don't fly in heaven?"

Dean shakes his head, "You heard her back in '77 she never meant for us to have this life, she hated hunting, she hated that life. I embraced it Sam, I loved it, I still do most of the time. I love the rush of the kill, the thrill of the chase, the victory of the hunt. That's not who she wanted me to be."

Sam shakes his head back at his brother. "You'll never understand how other people see you, will you Dean? You'll never understand how all the lives you've taken are for the better, you'll just always feel guilty. You'll never see how extraordinary you are. Because you're right, you're a warrior but your heart is so soft. You fight for what's right even when nobody has ever done right by you."

Chelssie comes back at that moment and Sam goes silent, watching Dean carefully, hoping he hasn't ruined the evening. She places their plates in front of them. And Dean gives her a stretched smile and Sam's heart sinks. She walks away and Dean unwraps his silverware and lays the cloth napkin over his lap.

"Maybe your right Sam...maybe I am. I learned a long time ago you can't think about these things too much." He surprisingly looks Sam right in the eye. "It hurts too much, makes you want to fix things you can't fix, makes you feel like a failure."

He sighs and his eyes grow wet again, "All I know is if I had a kid I would never want to raise them to this life. And that if it did happen, if I wasn't able to prevent it, you see...this is all mom's fault." He shakes his head and smiles sadly at Sam.

"What I'm trying to say is mom must feel like such a failure when she looks down on us, sees who we've become. And if she can't be proud of herself because she can't be proud of us, and if she can't be proud of us I can't be proud of myself." He shrugs, "That's just the way it is."

Sam says nothing, doesn't know what to say. How do you refute that? How do you convince your brother he's not a failure? That he's the best man you've ever met, the cleverest hunter you know, the only parent you ever want?

Chelssie saves them from further dampening the evening by returning with the barkeep and Sam's mood is lightened by Dean's obvious intentions of not letting their conversation ruin the night. It's when the barkeeper supplies a bottle of wine that Sam gets excited.

"Good evening Gentlemen," the barkeeper addressed them, "Here's your wine, and may I say I've been waiting a long time for someone to crack this open, so let me know how it is."

Sam takes the bottle from her hand and opens it carefully with the supplied corkscrew.

"Can I ask, why you chose this one?" She questioned standing to the side.

Sam's smile creeps it's way to his lips, his eyes remain on Dean's face, " '79 is Dean's birth year, they both turn thirty-eight this year."

Dean looks at Sam shocked, "You bought us vintage wine on my birthday from my birth year!?"

The bartender laughs at his face, but Sam is a little nervous, after all wine isn't really their thing.

Dean stands up, "I have to hug you right now," he determines.

Sam blushes and stands too, as Dean wraps his arms firmly around him. Sam sighs feeling like he's made a good step in making up for missing so many of Dean's birthdays.

Dean lets Sam go and says, "C'mon let's try it!"

Chelssie supplies two deep and wide wine glasses and Sam pours Dean first and then himself, their glasses meet in cheers and their eyes over them.

"Happy Birthday Dean." Sam says simply, and then they drink.

And it is good.

Just good wine.

Strong and sweet, sliding down their throats into their stomachs and warming them pleasantly.

"This will be perfect with my lamb," Dean decides and digs in.

Sam laughs and his heart is fill to the brim, this is good.

...

The old man across the room watches them with glistening eyes. Does he even remember his thirty-eighth birthday? Each person is given the gift of time, the question is what they do with it? He hopes these young men were making life worth their while. He can sense the heavy emotion, the celebratory relief that they are both alive to see this day, but also, the guilt. It's a heavy aura surrounding the younger man, he's guessing the younger brother. Regret at having missed too many of these special days.

A memory itches at the back of his mind, he digs it back up. A story told him a while ago, two brothers-impossible odds. Oh yes, he knows these men. The Winchester brothers, how could he have not recognized them immediately? The warped waves of time surround their souls. The younger brother's soul bears a hundred extra years in hell's time...the older brother, forty. He can see the many occasions their time appeared to be up only to be granted more.

And though deals had been made, and dark miracles had taken place he knew these boys had been granted the extra time because of who they are. No matter how many times they messed up, or hurt each other, they ultimately worked with all their might for the good of...everything and everyone.

He thought about all the many deities that had worked against them, those the Winchester's had defeated. Angels, demons, greek gods-including Loki, Orisis the Egyptian god of judgement, Osis the Egyptian god of time. Witches. DEATH. LEVIATHAN. Azazel, Alister, LUCIFER, MICHEAL, Zacheriah. (he was really glad that dick was gone) Metatron, Cain, AND the Mark of Cain (you'd think they were just showing off if you didn't know how many times they died during all this.)

And now...the darkness. And the old man rested with ease as the rest of the supernatural world was in a tizzy over her arrival. Because he had faith in these mighty warriors, he had faith they would defeat like they had done in every aspect before.

He thought perhaps Dean Winchester deserved a birthday gift from Father Time.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW

thank you


	2. Chapter 2

This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

Chapter 2.

Sam wanted to get desert but Dean insisted that he had something in mind, and since it was his birthday he got to pick. After generously tipping Chelssie, and Dean draining the last of his birthday vintage wine they head out. As they walk past the bathrooms a small body collides with Dean's out of no where and Sam is shocked to see the old man from the VIP seating area sprawled on the floor with Dean gently dragging him back to his feet.

"I am SO sorry sir," Dean says, blushing.

"You're fine, young man." He returns in soft breathy tones, "No harm done."

"Are you alright?" Sam asks, looking over the frail body with critical eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." He reassures, bright eyes taking in the both of them.

"I'm sorry again," Dean says, as he and Sam drift towards the door.

"Happy birthday," Sam barely hears as they step out into the open air.

The valet was there with the impala and opens the door for Dean.

"Many happy returns, sir," he says smiling, just as he closes the door.

Dean heaves a sigh of satisfaction as he runs his hands down Baby's wheel, he reaches over and to Sam's absolute surprise left a local radio playing.

"Thanks Sammy, that was great." A genuine content Dean Winchester smile was on Dean's face across from Sam, and the youngest Winchester was completely happy, if not somewhat satisfied with himself.

"Well, it IS your birthday so I guess..."

"Shut up," Dean says without any heat.

"Where are we going now?" Sam asks, as they peel out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

"It's a surprise, Sam, hold your horses." Dean admonishes smiling over having the upper hand...finally.

Sam sighs in mock irritation.

"How full are you?" Dean questions, cruising down the road, unconsciously looking awesome in his car to all passerbys.

"Pretty stuffed, why?" Sam asks, peering curiously at Dean.

"Got some time to blow then?"

"Sure, what do you want to do?" Sam asks, looking over his shoulder, checking out their surroundings.

"Let's see..."Dean looks around appraisingly, "Bowling, skating, or, ohhh...a wine and design!"

Sam raises his eyebrows, "You know what a wine and design is?"

Dean gives him a ruffled eye roll, "Of course, I know what a wine and design is."

"Seriously Dean, what're we going to do?"

"There's a designer dress store, Samantha, right up your alley." He laughs as Sam reaches to punch his arm. Much to Sam's annoyance Dean pulls up and parks beside the dress store and gets out. Sam follows and Dean carefully locks the car's doors.

"Be back, Baby," he coos, and runs his hand all the way down her side to the trunk.

He and Sam stroll aimlessly down the sidewalk, looking in the stores and Sam was shocked as he watched his brother peering through windows and discussing the necessity or stupidity of an item.

"Are we...window shopping?" He asks, wincing even as the words came out of his mouth.

"Don't you like just walking down streets looking through the windows?" Dean asks, smiling oddly at Sam.

"Yes, but, you?" Sam looks completely confused.

Dean laughs.

"Seems like lots of stuff you don't know about me, Sammy."

"You mean this is another one of your traditions?" Sam asks, smiling.

"Absolutely, window shopping is a must do." Dean responds, an entirely sincere grin on his face.

"Why?" Sam asks, deciding just to get it out there. Dean seems in a good mood.

Dean shrugs, "Makes me feel safe." A content smile replacing the grin.

"Safe?" Sam is incredulous.

...

"What the hell?" Dean asks, looking around.

Sam turns in circles too, taking in the new surroundings.

"We just got zapped somewhere," Dean says, matter-of-factly.

"Are we..." Sam's eyes slide to mere slits and he looks around carefully again, "Is this...Palo Alto?"

Dean looks around again too. The nicely paved streets with old buildings reaching towards the sky, old trees growing up from the sidewalk, all the young people bustling down the streets with back backs or bags...just like any city close to a major university. Dean resognizes this place. He groans, and face plants in his hand.

"Follow me," he says gruffly and takes off. Sam has no choice but to obey.

Dean leads the way striding along the downtown paved sidewalk ignoring all that walk by. But Sam notices how no one looks at them, and everything feels strangely familiar, like deja vu familiar.

"Dean...what's going on?" He instinctively seeks out Dean to explain away the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Just wait Sam, I've got a theory." Dean says, and throws back a stretched smile.

As they walk in silence Sam begins to recognize the street their walking on and is just thinking that he used to work somewhere right around here when Dean suddenly stops. He peers through the big glass windows of a store and Sam is staring at the sign above the door shocked.

Alfonzo's Italian Cuisine.

How did they end up here and further more why did Dean stop and stare through this particular window?

"Yep," Dean says with almost pleased finality, "I'm right."

"What?" Sam asks, "What are you staring at?"

"That," Dean answers, pulling Sam over by the edge of his jacket and practically pushes his face into the glass.

Sam gasps, because just on the other side of the window, cleaning tables is...Sam.

But not like him, Sam, the old Sam, college Sam.

"What the...?" he whispers, watching the young man with fascination just like Dean.

"Lookee there Sammy," Dean says fondly, "Its the good ol' college DICK."

Sam shoots him a sour look, "But why, what happened? I mean c'mon, the is bizarre even for us. Dean, I don't understand, I mean nothing ever happened on this street I..."

Suddenly Dean got that look, that look when Dean Winchester started thinking, the cogs started turning and his brain seem to go into overdrive, like it was trying to make for lost time. Sam chuckles to himself.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean says under his breath and then he's crossing the street like a strike of lightening, and Sam is trying to keep up.

"Dean, what are yo...Dean wait up!"

He nearly runs into his brother as he stops suddenly and then begins to walk faster towards a small bookshop just a little off centered with the Italian Cuisine.

Dean stops in front of it and peers through this window again.

"Bingo," he whispers softly, and his eyes take on a dewy remembering look.

Sam is afraid. He knows what he suspects he'll see, but he really hopes he doesn't. He had given thought to his brother's birthdays while he was at school. What did he do, who was he with, was he alone? And as messed up as it was Sam had intentionally stopped thinking about it after so long because it hurt, and it made him feel guilty. Because as Sam has asked before, what really makes the man who is his brother?

So Sam looks through the window and sees who he expects to see. A twenty-something year-old Dean Winchester seated at a window table eyes drifting between the little Italian restaurant and a laptop and notebook sitting on the table in front of him. Sam feels the tears well up in his eyes, and as much as he wants to believe Dean would never sit across the street from him and watch over him without making himself known he knows this is exactly what happened.

"We've gone back in time," Dean says, and then looks around suspiciously, "It must have something to do with my birthday."

"What? Why would you think that?" Sam asks, starting to get an idea and hoping beyond hope he was wrong.

"I remember this day," Dean says slowly, "January twenty-fourth, 2003." He leans against the brick wall and turns his eyes on Sam. "I spent the entire day sitting here watching you Sammy." He smiles sadly, "It was a good day."

"Dean, why didn't you say something, why didn't you come in and talk to me? I always thought about you on your birthday." Sam asks, desperate, seeing the hurt that had been raw all those years ago.

"I wanted to, I just..."

But Dean is cut off when younger Dean jumps out of his chair and slams through the bookstore door, the brothers turn just in time to see college Sam walk out of Alfonzo's with a backpack on his shoulder. Sam watches with bated breath as young Dean raises a hand and opens his mouth to shout after him. But then his younger self is smiling and waving at someone, they greet each other with a hand shake and pull each other into a hug. Sam grounds his teeth when he realizes it's Brad, the demon possessed boy who introduced him to Jess.

He watches helplessly as younger Dean shuts his mouth with an audible snap, and pulls his hand back like he's been burned. He sees that resigned look on his brother's face, the I-can-sacrifice-for-Sammy face. Dean decides that Sam's want for normalcy was more important than his own happiness. He watches as college Sam walks away, the sigh echoes through Sam's ears and young Dean looks content as he gets one last look at Sam's disappearing mop of brown hair.

Younger Dean walks back into the bookstore, packs up his stuff and they follow him around the corner where he tosses his messenger bag into the passenger seat, and rubs an affectionate hand over the impala's hood.

"Well, he's still safe, baby."

As this version of Dean climbs into the impala and drives away rather subdued, Sam is left blinking, beside HIS brother.

"What the hell is this about, why this day? Why this particular birthday?" Sam asks, more than a little annoyed at the emotionally traumatic experience.

Dean laughs, all be it a little nervously, "The window-shopping tradition, I didn't even realize it, but this must have been where it started."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks, following as Dean starts strolling down the street.

"I mean," Dean reasons, "That...rumor had it you worked on this street, so on my twenty-fourth birthday I rode up here and walked the streets..."

Sam nods with understanding and finishes for him, "And looked through all the windows trying to find where I worked."

Dean nods and laughed again, "You learn something new about yourself every day."

Sam laughs and was unable to pass up the opportunity to tease his brother, "You went window shopping for me, dude.

"Shut up."

...

As though released from a spell Dean and Sam found themselves back in the present on the sidewalk where they had last been. Sam checked his watch, no time had passed, everything looked as if they had just blinked.

"How long you guess?" Dean asks, as if going back in time to his past birthdays was an everyday occurrence.

"No more than twenty minutes, at the most," Sam answers.

Dean groans, "Why does it always happen to us," he whines, "And why on MY birthday, couldn't it just wait till May?" He complains, as they kept going down the street.

Sam bitch-faced him on principle, but he knew they both checked to make sure their silver knives were in place, he also knew Dean was reassured by the knowledge that one breast pocket of his jacket held a loose handful of salt.

They kept walking.

"What do you think it is?" Sam questions his older brother.

"Not a clue."

"Must a had something to do with the whole tradition thing, don't ya' think?"

"Not a clue."

"We must have triggered it somehow, it seems harmless enough, huh?"

"Not a clue."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"Stop ignoring me."

"Stop asking me questions I don't know the answers to."

"Okay," Sam concedes. "Does it feel like a trickster to you?"

"Nah, doesn't feel like that dick."

"I don't mean Gabriel," Sam retorts, "He's dead."

Dean snorts, "You really think that pretender is dead, not in our wildest dreams...not even on my birthday." He laughs mirthlessly.

"Dean, that's hardly fair, after all he helped stop the apocalypse." Sam reasons, smiling, knowing his brother is just being disagreeable.

"No, all he did was to help us come up with an efficient suicide plan for you Sam, and do not tell me for a second that he was trying to be helpful. Like usual he was just amused that we were screwing his brothers up, we were just little weapons in his big war against his family."

Sam is surprised by the heat and bitterness in Dean's tone, he decides to make no comment though.

"Well, what do you want to do?" He asks instead.

"Let's keep our eyes out for now," Dean says, "There's nothing we can do without more information.

"Alright," Sam agrees, "But let's be careful."

"Yes mother."

After looking through front windows for what felt to Sam hours, he knew he had to get Dean doing something else as he was taking to peering through house windows and in on families.

"Dean, what are you doing," he asks, at first horrified, "You know that's rude, and trespassing?"

"Aw, c'mon Sam, its like a soap opera." Dean laughs. So Sam decides he had best pull Dean back towards bright lights, booze, and women.

"Let's go back to the car, Dean." He says, pulling on Dean's arm and back towards the way they came.

"Why Sam? Woulda' thought this was right up your alley. Something nice and normal."

"But Dean you don't do normal, so this is getting awkward."

Dean gives his own very impressive version of the bitch face.

"Fine lets go," he concedes, and starts down the sidewalk so suddenly Sam is surprised with the ease he just won the argument with.

Dean slows to an easier walk once they walk out of the neighborhood they had wandered into, and crosses the street to the other side.

"What are we doing?" Sam asks.

"Window shopping on this side now," he laughs at Sam's sigh. "C'mon our next stop is just around the corner.

"What stop?"

"The one we're about to make."

"Where are we going?"

"Where we're about to stop."

"What stop?"

"Sam."

"Dean..."

"Look! We're here!" Dean gave an over-done smile to cover up his exasperation.

Dean stopped in front of a...?

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW;)

thank you


	3. Chapter 3

This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

Chapter 3.

An ice cream parlor? Really, Sam questions?

"Dean, what are we doing?"

"Don'tcha' want some ice cream, Sammy?"Dean asks, with his most winning smile. "You've got to have ice cream on your birthday dude." He says, once they've stepped through the door.

"Really? Dean." Sam questions again, as Dean winks at the girl behind the counter, and grabs a menu and sits down in a window seat.

"What?" Dean asks.

Sam gave him the explain-yourself-to-me-now-or-else face.

Dean sighs, "You've been here before right?"

Sam shook his head.

"What?" Dean exclaims, "I've been coming to this place every chance I get since we found the bunker, not that that's very much but..."

Sam makes a face, "YOU go out for ice-cream?"

"Yeah," Dean answers easily, as if nothing could be more normal.

"Now," he goes on looking at the menu, as Sam continues to stare at him, "That butter pecan is really good...aww, the seasonal peppermint is out, now that was good Sammy."

Sam was about to have a break down. The Pina Colada, the spinach balls, the lamb chops had been surprising but Sam should have guessed Dean had a love for the finer things in life. Granted the window shopping was pretty SHOCKING but that was Dean for you. And Sam figured for all the extraordinary Dean lived every day of his life on his birthday he could have an over load of normalcy. But that was before the ice cream parlor. An Ice cream parlor, c'mon, Sam knew his brother better than this...didn't he?

He was starting to get nervous about their relationship. You were supposed to know these things about each other right? Sam had been with Dean roughly everyday for the past ten years, and he hadn't picked up on any of this...stuff.

He numbly took the menu Dean hands him, but his eyes stay on his brother's face. Dean looks the best he had in a long time, happy, peaceful, not AFRAID. Which was always a plus, because scared Dean meant things were REALLY REALLY bad.

"...but watcha' really got to get is the Chocolate Moose Tracks, cause let me tell you, Sammy boy, there is some good ice cream." Dean finally took a breath and smooths his hand over the menu now laid on the table. He waves over the girl form behind the counter, she walks over with napkins and spoons in hand.

"Hiya Dean," she says with a friendly smile on his face, not too flirty, not rude, Sam gathers they knew each other pretty well, or pretty well for Dean.

"Hi Cher," he returns picking up his menu and jerking Sam's from his hand and giving them to Cher.

"Happy birthday, right?" She asks, as she took the menus.

"You remembered?" Dean quirks an eyebrow, Sam is shocked to see absolutely no flirting going on, this was a genuine friendship. Dean had a just-friends lady friend? This was a weird night, and getting weirder.

"Of course I remembered," she says laughing, "Ice cream on me tonight." Then she turns her pretty chocolate brown eyes on Sam.

"This must be Sam, huh?" She asks, with familiarity, Sam feels at disadvantage. She had obviously heard about him, but he had not heard about her.

"Yeah," Dean grins, "That's the kid brother."

She offered Sam a hand that he shook, "I'm Cher, it's lovely to finally meet you." She laughs looking at Dean.

"He's always in here talking about you," she tells Sam fondly.

"Okay," Dean chuckles nervously, "Cher, let us have two Chocolate Moose Tracks."

"Big or huge?" She asks knowingly, and Sam thought that was about as much as any ice cream or pie server needed to know about his brother.

Dean laughs, "Its my birthday and Sammy's first time here."

She nods sagely, "Celebration size?"

Dean nods too, "There ya' go," he looks around, "Where's my girl?"

Cher laughs, Sam is majorly confused. Was there a girl in this situation after all?

"She's in the back, Dean," Cher laughs, walking back to the counter to serve up their "celebration size" ice cream.

Dean gives Sam a mischievous wink and then to Sam's shock gets up and disappears behind the two swinging doors that apparently led to the back.

Even though this was strange, Sam couldn't help but think with a happy weight in his chest that Dena apparently did have friends. He did get out, show the social side of himself, give his vibrant smile to someone other than his baby brother and women he wanted to lay. Perhaps after all these years of Sam thinking Dean was a shut in unless hunting, and rude unless he was having sex...perhaps just perhaps there was more to Dean than he knew, than actually met the eye.

He looks up, broken from his thoughts as the double doors swing open and Dean appears with a little person in his arms. It was safe to say Sam couldn't believe his eyes.

Dean was carrying a little girl in his arms, with short soft brunette curls, and big chocolate brown eyes to match Cher's. Her perfect baby lips were turned up with a smile for Dean, one hand clasped in his t-shirt, the other's fingers slipped up into the short hairs at the back of Dean's neck. Dean was currently in the act of slipping his fingers up her shirt to tickle under her arms. Breathless with laughs she arched her body away from Dean's hand using her head against his shoulder for leverage.

As Dean's tickling resides she leaves her head there as if it belonged, and Dean slips back into his seat across from Sam.

"Sam, (you can shut your mouth now), " Dean says smirking, "This is Aurora and yes, she is named after the disney princess from...isn't it Sleeping Beauty?"

He turns around and gives a questioning look to Cher, while the little girl looks at Sam with wide eyes.

Cher laughs, "That's right, yes. Rory say hi."

Rory's eyes flitted to her mother's face, then to Dean's and finally back to Sam's who waves, feeling way out of his league.

Dean places his mouth right beside her ear, "Can you wave? Sweetheart...say hi Rory."

He laughs showing her what he meant by waving at Sam himself.

She raises a hesitant hand then waves, "Hi," came a barely there voice.

"Woah!" Dean laughs looking at Cher, "When did this happen?"

Rory smiles shyly up at Dean.

Cher smiles, "Last week, started talking out of the blue...tell her to say something else."

"Hey Rory," Dean says looking at her with a fond smile, and Sam watches fascinated as the little girl latches her minuscule hand onto Dean's pointer finger. "Can you say something for me?" She gave a shrill baby laugh as he tickles her side again.

"Can you say..." Dean tickles her again, "Dean? Say Dean."

She hesitates looking carefully at Dean, "Dee," she lets out softly.

Sam has seldom seen such a look of pure joy on Dean's face, Dean's biggest smile looks like it would split his face, he lets out a laugh.

"I'm Dean," he says, patting himself on the chest. He lays a gentle finger in the center of hers, "Rory."

She grabs Dean's finger with her hand and places his hand back on his chest, "Dee," she coos in a sweet little voice, then pulls his finger back to her chest, "Wowy," she repeated a little less surely.

Her face erupts in a smile as soon as Dean tucks his face into the side of her neck and gives her some playful messy kisses.

"Your my girl," he laughs, "You're so smart too," he taps her on the nose then points to Sam. Those big innocent eyes land on Sam, and he squirms a little.

"That's Sam," Dean says firmly, "Sam, he's my brother." Dean just sat looking at her expectantly.

She looks at Dean and then over at Sam, "Sam," she mummers as her eyes slip back to Dean's face to see if she got it right and is answered by Dean's loving, assuring smile. "S'mmmm," she repeats herself, holding onto the last consonant to enjoy the vibrating feeling between her lips.

Cher comes over with their two bowls of ice cream and sits down in the seat beside Dean.

"Happy birthday, Dean," she says, and leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Rory laughs and leans in giving Dean a slobbery kiss too.

"Thanks guys," Dean says, and kisses Rory again.

"Well, dig in." Cher invites.

Dean places Rory on the table in front of him and grabs his spoon and waves it at Sam raising his eyes brows. Sam smiles and picks up his spoon too. He waits for Dean and they take their first bite at the same time. Dean's eyes shut in ecstasy, as he ran his tongue over the spoon. Sam's own eyes grow wider at the taste. It was literally the best ice cream he'd ever had. And Sam had been a lot of places.

"As good as ever," Dean mumbles to Cher through another bite.

Sam nods, "This is amazing," he confirms.

"I'm glad you like it," she smiles.

"Cher mixes her own ice cream," Dean supplies helpfully.

Cher shot him a look.

"That's so cool," Sam says, "And this is sooo good."

Dean made his eyes wide and nods, like "I know right?"

Sam watches as Rory's eyes follow Dean's spoon from his mouth, to the bowl and back. He's guessing they go through this every time Dean comes into the ice cream parlor. He smiles as he takes in the way Dean laughs at her knowingly.

"Cher, can Rory have some?" He asks, just as a handful of costumers walk in.

She sighs but nods, "Your lucky Dean came Rory," she told her baby girl and then walks away to serve the other customers.

Dean spoons out what must have been in his mind an appropriate amount of ice cream for a toddler and pops it into Rory's waiting mouth. She hums to herself as she sucks on the sweet coldness.

"What's she doing?" Sam asks, curiously.

Dean shrugs as he put another bite in his own mouth, "She always does that, I think it means she's happy."

"You just gave her ice cream, Dean." Sam points out, incredulous.

Dean shrugs, "Women are fickle but..." he pops another spoonful into Rory's mouth, "I think Rory really loves me. Don't ya'?" He asks Rory, and runs a hand softly through her baby curls.

To this Rory smiles, "Mo," she demands. And Dean laughs and gladly gives her more of the ice cream.

"Now you're just spoiling her," Sam says, unhelpfully.

Dean makes a face, "Wouldn't you know?" He says, "Lord knows I spoilt you plenty. Hell, I spoiled you enough to make up for mom, dad, and grandparents." He laughs, eyes sparkling as he looks down at Rory's face. "I'm helping Rory out too, she's got a mom, but no one else, so I figured she should have some one to dote on her."

Sam watches his brother with the little girl smiling fondly.

"You would have been a great dad," he says softly.

"Hell yeah," Dean says smiling coyly, "I was a great dad, I know you think quite a bit of yourself." He winks at Sam with a gentle smile.

"Still, I wish...," Sam trails off thinking again of what could have been.

Dean meets his eyes straight on, green-orbs sparkling. "Yeah, I know."

...

They stand side by side on the sidewalk outside some nondescript diner, like thousands they have been to before. Dirty, but clean enough that social services couldn't shut them down. They were standing in front of one of the big windows, only a few inches of thick glass between them and patrons of place.

It was night and Sam was relieved that he didn't remember this place, and looking around he felt very certain that this was very long time ago, like before-he-could-remember long time ago. The air wasn't too nippy and if they were back in time again on Dean's birthday then they must be somewhere warm on the coast.

Beside him Dean is perfectly still, and when Sam looks at him he is alarmed at the lack of color in Dean's face. His lips are pressed in a thin line and his eyes are closed tightly. Turning towards his brother Sam's gaze fell for the first time on the three customers sitting on the other side of the glass in the diner. Needless to say he froze.

On one side of the booth sat John Winchester. Younger than Sam remembers the father of his childhood, but he still has that tight, tensed air about him. Across the table from him sits a boy somewhere around the age of eleven or twelve and beside him sat a child hiding under a great mop of dark hair. With a pang he couldn't help but recognize the boy with hard lines in his face as Dean Winchester and the innocent child as his brother Sam.

Because he remembers when that was all that he was; Dean's little brother Sam. He was never John Winchester's youngest, Sam. It always Dean, John's boy, Sam, Dean's little brother. And looking back now he sees why it was like that.

On the table between them stands a HUGE bowl of chocolate moose track ice cream. John has a spoon and is eating it unconcernedly as Dean takes a bite and then feeds Sam one off his spoon. And so on and so on. Every other bite Sam is given an equal amount of ice cream as Dean is giving himself. Sam couldn't suppress the smile that stole onto his face as he watches his younger self tug on the edge of Dean's shirt after every bite he fed himself as if to remind Dean he was still there.

You don't need to, Sam shouts out at himself. He'll never let you down.

Beside him he hears a soft sound. He watches as Dean presses his hand against the window as if to block out what was going on inside. His head falls to his chest, bottom lip worried between his teeth, holding back the emotion.

NOT A GOOD BIRTHDAY, seems a little mild to Sam.

"Dean," he says softly, "Where, are we?"

Dean clears his throat, "Right outside Charleston, South Carolina, January twenty-fourth, nineteen eighty-seven."

He's only eight, Sam thinks, heart breaking a little. Sam didn't know what to say, he was upset Dean had to live through a clearly painful memory and maybe ruin another birthday that was looking up for once. His brother is gazing through the window, taking in the scene with a sad smile on his face.

"What happened?" Sam asks gently, laying a hand lightly on Dean's coat sleeve.

"Let's go inside," Dean says simply, pulling away from his reverie and Sam follows him into the diner.

Just as before they go unnoticed so Dean walks over and stand beside the bench seat John Winchester was occupying. He seemed to be studying the man intently as if trying to make a judgement about him. Sam stands beside young Dean, across from his brother. He chuckles a little at the conversation.

"Dean, your gonna' make Sam sick," John admonishes, watching Sam devour yet another large spoonful of ice cream."

"Its alright Dad," young Dean says, "I know how much makes him sick."

John has nothing to say to that.

Young Sam got up on his knees and leans to whisper into Dean's ear, "Dad knows you can take care of me, Dee."

Dean smiles back, but it fades as he becomes the recipient of the John Winchester glare. He shrugs.

"Dean, its your birthday, and Sam shouldn't be eating sweets this late." John decides to point out.

Dean says nothing.

"If you brought us earlier I could have had my own." Sam supplies helpfully. What he meant was if John had taken them for ice cream BEFORE he went for a drink he could have afforded to get Sam his own.

John rolls his eyes. Sam looks pleased with himself.

"Sit down Sammy," Dean urges, situating his little brother back to sitting on his bottom on the seat. "Here," he says and plops a huge spoonful of ice cream into Sam's opening mouth probably about to say something else helpful.

"So..." John drew out, like he used to do when he was about to say something he was uncomfortable about. "Today's your birthday."

Dean nods.

"Eight years old," John says thoughtfully.

Dean takes another bite of ice cream, eyes meeting his Dad's eyes equally as thoughtful.

"What do you see yourself doing in let's say...twenty years?" John asks seriously.

"That's twenty-eight," Sam supplies, looking up to Dean behind shaggy bangs awaiting his brother's answer.

"Thanks Sammy," Young Dean gives his little brother an indulgent smile.

Sam looks over to his Dean watching the conversation with glistening eyes. And while Sam was living this for the first time, he could see the sick expectation on Dean's face. His own belly coils thinking of the possibilities. Why would Dean make a tradition out of a bad memory? Seriously, birthdays were supposed to be good, even Dean knew that, or so Sam thought.

"Twenty-eight," Dean repeats softly. He shrugs, "Wife, family, all that jazz," he lays a hand on the top of Sam's head, running fingers through the soft mop. "Find someone who like's Sammy. You can stay with us, Sammy." He tells young Sam, letting him steal the spoon.

Sam dips the spoon into the bowl, "Wanna' stay with you forever Dee."

Dean smiles and slips an arm around his little brother, "I'll always be here."

Sam fills his mouth with ice cream and stares out the window content.

Sam's Dean grabs a chair and pulls it up so he's sitting right in front of John's grim profile against the window. Leaning forward he places his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together.

"Wife and kids, huh?" John says, he huffs a little laugh.

"What?" Dean asks sincerely.

"If you leave for a nice old life, then who'll do the hunting, who'll protect all those people, do all the hunts coming?"

Sam wants to lay hands over his father's mouth. No, he pleads silently, he has a chance, don't take it from him.

Young Dean looks confused, "You, Dad."

Sam smiles at that, Dean was still a young innocent child in some ways.

John laughs a little and then leans towards his oldest, "I'm not always going to be around, son."

Dean appears troubled, "Oh," he says simply.

"So what are you going to do?" John asks, "What are you going to do about those people, those other hunts?"

Dean was now very confused, "I don't know any hunters with wives and kids dad," he says innocently, sounding uncertain.

John nods, "Hunter's can't have those things," he said looking his eight year old straight in the eye, "You can't have those things, Dean."

Sam watches the hard lines deepen in young Dean's face, some wetness appear in his eyes, then out of the mouth that had become a thin line comes the words; "Alright Dad."

Present Dean's forehead falls against the back of the bench seat.

"Me and Sam'll wait in the car," young Dean says quietly. He gathers the four year-old up in his small arms and walks out.

Dean jumps up knocking the chair over, his hand raises after them as if maybe to catch them. Halt them from walking heads high towards the life in store for them. To tell them to stop themselves before it was too late. Run away, leave John, hand themselves over to child services...anything.

Sam would never forget the look of utter defeat on his brother's face as the door swung closed after the two boys.

...

At the table in Cher's Ice cream Parlor, their eyes met and hold across the table. One tear makes a wet track down Dean's face.

"Dee," another young voice repeats four year-old Sam, "Mo," Rory demands.

The spell breaks. Dean looks down and away, his hand swiftly wiping away the one tear and any trace of it. He lays a soft kiss in the little girl's curls and then smiles softly at Sam.

"I know," he repeats.

tbc...

PLEASE REVIEW;)

thank you


	4. Chapter 4

This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

Chapter 4.

They stroll rather pointlessly down the sidewalk after leaving Cher and Rory. Nothing much to say after seeing Dean's memory. A cold night wind scurries dead leaves down the gutters making the boys button their coats and pull their collars up around their ears. The half full moon shone through empty tree branches and scatters eery shadows on the sidewalk.

They walk through the abandoned downtown town square, arcade music following them down towards the park where Sam can see lights reflecting of a pond with a lighted fountain. They stop across the street at a little convenience store where Dean goes in and buys some El Sol beer since its his birthday.

Sam stands looking at the park, great big old oaks growing over the side walk and benches. The trees grew over an expanse of smooth grass sloping towards the pond, where the sidewalk disappears in a bridge. It was quiet; no groups of noisy teenagers standing under the lights smoking and laughing. Dean joins him and stares a little too. Both in awe of the quiet and peace.

"Dean, I don't know if this place is appropriate for drinks, looks like the kind of place that'd have a security guard." Sam reasons, as he follows his brother across the street.

Dean laughs, "Its fine Sammy, been here plenty of times, hell, I know the guard."

Sam raised his eyebrows. There's a new one. Dean is a park goer. Regularly. Never saw that coming. He picked a nice one, Sam would give him that. His older brother leads the way over the sidewalk and across until he stops on the incline and sits down on the grass, which is a little lush for winter. Sam joins him and he immediately sees his brother has picked the perfect spot.

Before them stretches the pond, the soft light reflecting there, and the sloping bridge. Sam hadn't realized they were on a hill, but where the park ends the ground slops to show the city stretched out before them. A million lights sparkling, a million lives being lived, and Sam and Dean sitting on a hill watching...it was beautiful.

Sam's breath caught and Dean smiles as his twists the cap from a beer and hands it to his awe-struck brother. He opens another for himself and carefully tucks the beer caps into his jeans pocket. The silence stretches comfortable between them and Dean knows he scored one showing this place to Sam.

"This place is amazing," Sam almost whispers.

"I know," Dean answers, just as softly. "I knew you would like it."

"I love it," Sam whispers, "I can't believe, I..." he trails off instantly.

"What?" Dean asks gently, "You can ask me."

"I just, there's a lot it seems I don't know about you."

Dean laughs, just a touch humorlessly, "Learn something new everyday, little brother."

"I mean little parts of real life...I just assumed you didn't have," Sam says, a little wary of this subject. Far be it form him to bring up the "normal" topic.

Dean nods, agreeing with a fond smile on his lips. "I am really too badass for things like this."

Sam elbows him, Dean laughs, but then sobers and leans towards Sam a little.

"When the mark wouldn't let me sleep," he begins softly, "I'd come out here and sit for hours, staring at the lights, seeing all the lives at work. Somehow it helped. Knowing that even though I had such evil in me, even though I could do so much wrong, cause so much damage, that somehow...I was still just a drop in the ocean, someone just watching, someone just being..."

Dean trails off looking over the view before them, a soft smile spread on those lips, "The first time I came here free of the mark, I couldn't help myself Sam, I cried, and not because the mark affected the beauty of it all, but because I was just a person again. Hopeless and weak, but human. I was so relieved."

He took a long drag from his beer and gave Sam the sincerest smile ever. Sam smiles back, he holds up his bottle.

"To being human." He says, and Dean smiles and clinks their bottle necks together.

"Being human," Dean says again softly.

Somewhere far off, a dog barks, a door slams shut, the stars twinkle over them. Hell was unaware of their actions, heaven cared nothing for birthdays or counting time, Sam glanced at his brother, Dean looked over at him smiling, they were human.

Sam lays back into the grass and looks up into the stars, there he could see all the constellations that Dean had taught him to locate.

Dean watches him for a few minutes, "Hey, you remember that time Dad left us at Bobby's..."

"And we ran away and hid in the junkers?"

Dean laughs, "Yeah, we climbed up on the highest one, watched the stars until we fell asleep. Scared Bobby so bad, he made us stay with him the rest of whole damn visit..." he laughs deep in his chest, "That was a good day..."

...

"Not again," Sam whines, looking around to find them in Bobby's junkyard, "Wait just a second," he looks at Dean who was still blinking.

"You mean to tell me that this was on your birthday?" He asks in disbelief.

"This is really about to start pissing me off," Dean grumbles.

"I didn't even know it was your birthday." Sam says sadly.

"Aw Sammy," Dean consoles, "You were just a kid, dad didn't remember either," he shrugs and gives him an understanding smile.

"Like that's supposed to make me feel any better," Sam grouses.

"Oh yeah," Dean frowns, "Well, it was a good birthday Sam, remember I sneaked that little bit of whiskey?"

Sam laughs, "That's why you were so set on drinking that night."

Dean huffs, "We didn't even get a buzz, Sam."

Sam shrugs, "We did keep warm though."

"Because you were in my lap, you giant baby."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Shut up."

"Whatever," Dean gives up, "Look, here we come." Dean nods his head towards two small figures approaching, giggling in hushed tones and leaning on each other.

"Oh yeah," Sam says sarcastically, "We didn't even have a buzz."

Dean gives him a sour look, but grabs onto Sam when his younger sibling goes to follow their little counterparts.

"What's up?" Sam asks, watching his brother closely.

"We know this memory, right?" Dean says, sidling up to Sam. "It's a good one, and I'd love to see it again but..." Sam follows Dean's line of sight in the direction of Bobby's house. They could see the silhouette of their surrogate father through the bay window in the study.

"We have each other Sam," Dean says quickly into Sam's ear, as if scared Sam will shoot him down, "We can always remember together. But we don't have Bobby anymore."

Sam hesitates. They still didn't know what this was, why they were going back in time, even if it was harmless? In their experience nothing was harmless...

"Let's go use whatever time we have and spend it with Bobby," Dean says softly.

And Sam couldn't say no to those eyes, "Alright, let's go."

They walk across the yard and up onto the porch, through the screen door and into the foyer and to the kitchen. As soon as Dean passes through the door frame he feels some kind of power surge over him, he turns to stop Sam but it's too late. As Sam steps in he feels the same sensation, his wide eyes meet Dean's. To their surprise the screen door resoundingly slams behind them.

"Whose there?" Bobby's gruff voice demands, "Boys, is that you? What're you doing?"

Sam looks panicked, "No one else could hear us," he whispers.

"Must be all the warding," Dean whispers back, "Probably a revealing spell, knowing Bobby."

"He's going to catch us," Sam whispers urgently, "What happens when he shoots us with rock salt?"

Dean shrugs, and then Bobby rounds the corner.

"Who are you?" He questions roughly.

"Um..." Dean holds a hand out in front of them, feeling that it offers some protection. "Bobby, I can explain."

"Who are you, how do you know me?" Bobby nearly yells, poking the barrel of his shotgun towards them.

Dean automatically steps directly in front of Sam, "Its us, Bobby." He says hands spread, caution radiating from him.

Bobby pauses and gives Dean's face a very careful look, his eyes flit quickly over to Sam, but back to Dean's sparkling green eyes.

"Dean?" He says hesitantly.

Dean smiles, "Yeah, its me, and Sam." He jabs his thumb back towards Sam.

Bobby gives Sam a scrutiny now that Dean isn't effectively barging him back against the door.

"Well y'all boys got big, what happened?" His eyes thin to suspicious slits, "What did you boys do, trip a curse or something?"

"No, no," Sam hurries to say, "We just saw "us" outside, we're from the future."

Bobby just stares.

"Yeah," Dean laughs nervously, "No one else has seen us, so I'm guessing its the warding on this place."

"How do you know about the warding?" Bobby asks sharply.

Dean spreads his hands smirking, "Hello, future?"

"So you're still a smartass in the future?" Bobby asks dryly.

Dean rolls his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, by the way, boy." Bobby says, as he sits down on the kitchen table.

Sam huffs, "Even Bobby remembered," he whines to Dean.

"You were just a kid, Sammy." Dean says again.

"SO what happened, why are you here?" Bobby asks.

"We don't know," Sam answers, exasperatedly, "We were having dinner and then we were walking down the street and then we started going back whenever Dean remembered something about other birthdays."

"Well, if the revealing spell worked on you boys, but the ghost repellents didn't it must be a spell or...charm." Bobby says, laying the gun across his knees.

Dean smirks, "What did I say?" He nudges Sam in the ribs.

"Cut it out," Sam says shortly.

"Doesn't sound like any hex or charm I ever heard of," Dean muses.

"So you boys still in the business?" Bobby asks.

"Oh yeah," Dean says, "Tried getting out, didn't work out too well." Bobby watches as he and Sam share a look.

He clears his throat, "What about me?"

Sam opens his mouth, but Dean cuts in, "We better not say anything, Bobby, had some experience with time travel, can have the domino affect."

"Yeah?" Bobby asks, interest clearly piqued.

"Yeah," Sam says, "You're the best though Bobby," he's thinking of the phone call to heaven Dean doesn't know about, hopefully never will. He wonders what consequences Bobby's facing in heaven. He grimaces even thinking about Dean's reaction if he found out.

"Huh," Bobby grunts and Dean smiles at him with a look of pure adoration. The wet eyed look that longs for more than he can ever have, the look that reflects heartbreak, regret and joy.

"Tell me something from the future," Bobby prompts, "Something not important."

Dean laughs, "Dean Winchester is a badass."

Bobby rolls is eyes.

"Sam Winchester is a geeky girl," Dean adds laughing, dodging Sam's pass at his head.

Bobby shakes his head laughing, "How about John?" He asks innocently.

Smiles turn sad, "He's gone," Dean answers evenly, and Bobby holds his eyes for moment.

"You don't sound too put out," Bobby says.

Sam tenses but Dean shrugs, "Been a long time, Bobby. We've had bigger things to think about."

"Well," Bobby scratches the back of his head with his ball cap, "I'm sorry."

"You have no idea," Dean says wistfully.

"And you boys are still together?" Bobby asks, eyebrows raised.

"Damn straight," Sam answers firmly, hand on Dean's shoulder.

Bobby nods, approving it seems. He jumps as Dean and Sam's image flickers.

"Seems our time is running out," Dean says.

"Yeah," Bobby says, "I better go round up you two's little brat asses before you freeze to death."

Sam laughs, "You won't find us, but don't worry, Dean'll take care of me..."

"Bye, Bobby," Dean says softly, "I...we," he took a deep breath, "We love you."

...

Sam and Dean blink a few times. Their back on the green grass in the city park. Once again no time has passed. Dean casually tips back his beer and finishes it.

"So," Sam says, "That was weird."

"That was awesome," Dean says in hushed tones. "It was good to talk to him."

Sam feels a touch guilty.

"You think it'll change anything?" He asks.

Dean shakes his head, "Nah, Bobby told me he was visited by 'spirits', is what he called it, anyway, it didn't change anything."

"Bobby, told you that?" Sam asks, watching his brother's face "When?"

Dean looks steadily into Sam's eyed, "The night you left for Stanford."

The silence stretches on and Sam finds himself choking up a bit.

"Why would he tell you that then?" He asks, after a minute.

"Because when he saw us, we were together, Sammy." Dean says softly and gives his brother a comforting smile.

And Sam can read between the lines. He sees the broken man twenty year old Dean must have been going to Bobby in his moment of crisis for comfort. He sees Bobby, who has always been so close to Dean, grasping a straws to comfort his boy. His heart aches at the sorrow and pain he sees reflected in his brother's face. He's thankful they talked to Bobby, he glad Dean had comfort in that horrible time.

Sam smiles back at Dean and they stare at the stars a little longer.

"So...a hex or charm?" Dean says after a little while, "Want to go get some GOOD STUFF and then head back to the bunker, we can do some research?"

Sam nods, "Wish we didn't have to go."

"Me too."

They both heave up and Dean carries the empty six pack with them.

By the time their back at the impala both are shivering and they jump in the car and Dean turns up the heat. The radio plays a soft background. Dean pulls up in front of a NICE alcohol store and Sam raises his eyebrows.

Dean shrugs, "Love this place, c'mon inside and take a look."

They walk inside and it seems the store is some kind of exclusive club too. In the back there is a lounge area with newspapers. The place is a little cloudy with smoke, three or four men smoking cigars in expensive looking suits sitting in the back, they look up as they come in, and give Dean acknowledging nods. Sam is surprised.

Dean peruses the shelves of expensive looking liqueur, he selects a bottle with a pour spout already inserted.

"Been wanting to get this," he tells Sam, in subdued tones, "Just been waiting for a good excuse."

He carries the bottle up to the front desk where the man sitting there puts down his newspaper,

"Hey Dean," he says.

"Hey," Dean returns.

"Let me see your membership."

"Sure," he digs into his jean pocket to grab his wallet, he pulls it out and takes a card and hands it to the man who scans it. As Dean places his wallet on the counter to wait for his card back something falls from it with a clink to the floor. He kneels to grab it and comes back up studying it.

"Sonuvabitch!" He explains.

"What?" Sam asks, peering over his shoulder.

In Dean's palm lays a small hourglass shaped bronze piece.

The man across the bar gives Dean's card back and he distractedly slides it in and puts his wallet back in his pocket.

"Its your birthday so...drink is own the house." The man says with a smile, "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks Brooks," Dean says and grabs the bottle and walks out with Sam.

"I'm guessing we just found our charm," he says, still studying the small hour-glass.

He joins Sam in the car, handing the charm over to him, "How did it get there though?" Sam asks, studying it closely.

"Musta' been..." Dean cranks the impala, and suddenly he snaps his fingers, "Musta' been that old guy in the restaurant."

"Yeah," Sam says excitedly, "I thought he was weird, and then he ran into you and that must have been when he slipped it into your pocket."

"But why?" Dean asks, "I mean it hasn't hurt us really."

Sam shrugs, "He must have heard us talking about your birthday."

"But who would do us a favor Sam? I mean, we're not exactly on the top of most people's list." Dean questions, slipping the thing back into his pocket for safe keeping.

"The hourglass is obviously a symbol of time so maybe..." he trails off. "I got an idea, Dean, lets go back to the bunker, I think he's probably wanting this back, he'll show up again by the end of the night."

tbc...

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thank you


	5. Chapter 5

This fic is in honor of the amazing character who has been brought to life by Jensen Ackles...but who also lives in our hearts. Thank you Dean for teaching us so much about selfless love, true brotherhood, and sacrificing everything for what's right. Showing us the humility it takes to be a hero, how to always keep fighting...what it's like to fall so far and yet rise back up to the greatest of heights. But most of all thank you for teaching us what it is to be WINCHESTER.

Chapter 5.

Sure enough as Dean pulls the impala in front of the bunker the little old man appears in her headlights leaning against the old rainwater stained building. Sam's lips thin into a line, he is slightly annoyed by the fact that who ever this is had just dumped this on them ON Dean's birthday. Dean on the other hand is relaxed and at ease with the old man and himself as he uncranks the car and gets out, keys slipping into his pocket, liqueur in his hand.

He walks straight up to the little old man and for a second Sam is afraid he's going to hit him.

"This belongs to you, I think," he says, placing the bronze charm into the withered hand.

The old man took the hourglass and slips it into his breast pocket, he gives Dean a quiet smile and watches as Sam got out of the impala and approaches.

"The Winchester brothers," he says in pleasant tones, "I've heard a lot about you gentlemen."

"You have the advantage over us," Sam returns.

The old man's eyes twinkle, "You have an idea who I am, don't you Sam?" He asks knowingly.

Sam nods, "There's lots of lore about time, but nearly every culture has some legend or myth of a Father Time?" Dean raises his eyebrows and nods at his brother in admiration. Father Time sounds like a good bet.

The old man nods and smiles, "Then none of the rumors I've heard have been exaggerated, you are right." Sam returns the respectful nod Father Time gives him. "Now you're probably wanting to know about that little charm I planted on you, Dean."

Dean nods. "Don't get me wrong father," he says, "We don't mean to be ungrateful or disrespectful but for understandable reasons we're a little cautious of stuff like this. You didn't hurt us, but it was an unwelcome surprise."

Sam listens in silence as the truthful but silk like words fall from his brother's mouth. Some times people label him as the sensitive and understanding one out of the two brothers, but he knows that Dean is a gentle soul, a Protector's heart, a warrior's hands. He watches as Dean is perfectly at ease talking to someone way older and more powerful than him.

"I am sorry I pounced such a surprise on you, though I don't think you would have excepted my gift if I had offered it before delivering, would you have?"

Sam shakes his head.

"Why would you give us something?" Dean asks, "We're not anyone's favorite right now."

Father Time cocks his head to the side, "I overheard your conversation, I could sense all the regret surrounding you celebration. No two people who have been so faithful to each other should be haunted by such trifling mistakes." His bright eyes land on Sam meaningfully.

"No," Dean says, "That's not what I meant, I mean we've brought on a handful of apocalypses, caused permanent damage so many times...everyone hates us. So why would you, why would anyone, do something nice for us?"

Father Time nods his head thoughtfully, and then looks both the boys square in the eye, then looks back to Dean, "Because I believe in you two." He smiles, and is gone.

Sam and Dean stand in silence for a moment. The chilly air dancing around them, finding any secret passages into their clothing, to nip at their skin. Sam shivers and Dean opens the trunk of the impala and gets out three blankets. He spreads two over Baby's hood and the other he throws over Sam's shoulders.

"I'll be right back," he says softly. He unlocks the bunker, leaving Sam standing in the moonlight, and returns a few moments later with two crystal whiskey glasses.

Sam holds them as Dean pours out the liqueur. They clink their glasses together and nod to each other and then drink. They both jump up on the hood and lean back. Bottle and glasses and silence between them. The stars twinkle in the cold winter night above them, the alcohol is a warm hum in their veins, as is the loyalty between them.

They know they are alike. Their lives are the same. They have been faced with the same obstacles, fought the same enemies, suffered the same injustices and through it all they have come up with the same answer...they need, they want, each other. The trust, loyalty, safety and love it inspires and secures in their hearts is unfathomable.

"It was nice," Sam says.

"What?" Dean asks, looking up from swirling his liqueur around in the glass.

"Getting to know you a little better, finding out some of the things that make you who you are."

Sam is a little hesitant to talk about this, not wanting to open old wounds. But the softness in Dean's eyes speak of trust, and an openness rarely there. He takes a chance to maybe find just a little more out about the mystery that was Dean Winchester, his big brother.

Dean shrugs and laughs a little, "Things that make me who I am, or the way I am?"

Sam cocks his head to one side, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, as example, I don't want a wife and kids that's the way I am, not who I am."

"But giving up those things in order to save lives, that's who you are, Dean." Sam smiles at Dean's surprised face.

"I guess," he muses, swirling is whiskey around again.

"You guess?" Sam asks, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face.

"It's just on my birthday looking back at what I've done, you know? I just see disaster after disaster..." He looks away, up at the twinkling stars.

"Dean," Sam objects, "You've spent your entire life fixing mistakes we've made."

Dean laughs dryly, "Yet here we are, with GOD'S FRIGGING SISTER on our plates." He shakes his head.

"Yeah, but Dean, we're still together." Sam tries to get Dean to look at him by elbowing him, "It's worth it isn't it?" He bumps his shoulder with Dean's.

"Yeah," Dean lets out with a sigh, "I guess that's who I really am."

Sam smiles knowing where this is going, "Who?" He asks anyway.

Dean looks over to him with a fond smile, "Best big brother in the whole wide world."

Sam shakes his head and laughs, but than says sincerely, "Of course you are, birthday boy."

Dean shakes his head and leans back against the impala's windshield and sighs deeply looking up at the night's sparkling canopy. Sam watches him for a moment and then pours them another drink and leans back too, resting his head beside Dean's.

"One more thing?" He asks.

"What?" Dean asks indulgently, and whether it's the liqueur making him warm and comfy or Sam's little brother puppy dog eyes he doesn't really know.

"One more memory?" Sam almost pleads.

"Ugh Sam," Dean moans, "Why?"

"You gotta have some good ones, I want to know more about when we were young, I don't remember much," Sam reasons, watching as Dean throws back the drink and rolls his head to the side to lock eyes with him.

"Isn't these one of those parents questions, Sammy?" He questions with raised eyebrows.

Sam laughs mirthlessly, "Really Dean? Dad never told me anything...you raised me."

"Whatever," Dean says, looking away.

"Pleeeeeeeease Dean?" Sam pouts, and when the puppy dog eyes and pouting lip doesn't work...

He leans over and drapes himself over Dean and sniffs pitifully in his face, "Pleeeeeese Dean!" He whines, making Dean try to wrestle him off.

"God, get away from me," Dean snorts out laughing, pushing Sam away from him with both hands noncommittally.

"Pleeeeeease!" Sam whines in his highest, most annoying voice possible.

"Oh my g...okay! Okay!" Dean gives in, pushing Sam away. Sam sits up and laughs, pouring himself another drink and Dean too.

He lays back down, closer to Dean then before, their shoulders touching. They drain their glasses in silence.

Dean puts his cup down with clink against Baby's hood. "Let's see," he muses, "A good memory on a birthday...there was that time in Miami..."

Sam rolls his eyes, "Dean I was there, AND that was MY birthday."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Dean holds up both hands in defense. "Well," he says smiling softly, "There was that one birthday I got Baby." His hand rubs lovingly on her hood and Sam is quiet because believe it or not this is a story he's never heard.

Sam hasn't felt this way for a long time. Not since Dean had opened his mouth on his eighteenth birthday and spilled out a vivid, loving description of their dear, long-departed mother. That night Dean had made him weep like a baby just with his monologue. And ever since then Sam had known two things; one, Mary Winchester was Dean Winchester's idol, his help in the rising storm of life, his reason to go on and on. And two; when Dean was passionate about something he waxed eloquent. So Sam held his breath, because if Dean Winchester was passionate about anything it was his 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

"Well," Dean starts, "It was a late night just like any other, been working a case and had just finished, dad was beat and we sat there in the impala, in the silence just glorying a little in the success...I wasn't even sure dad knew it was my birthday, let alone sixteenth." Dean smiles a little dreamily, and nudges Sam with his shoulder, "You were dead out in the back seat, drooling all over the seat, I could hear you breathing deep and peaceful. It was quiet, could have heard a pin drop...on the carpet. John was sitting there in the driver's, journal open in his lap. But for once he didn't seem to be all that caught up in the job. He glanced at me from under his eye brows like he always did, you know?"

Sam nods and Dean laughs.

"Anyways, he goes to hand me something and I just kind of react and hold out my hand. And there he drops her keys. And I just stare at them for a minute and then he clears his throat and says, "Take care of her, son" and I said, "Yes sir, thanks dad." And that was it.

He climbed out and came around to my window were I was still sitting, shocked. He leans down in the open window and nudges me, "Take her for a spin, son, she's all yours," he told me.

"I said, "But dad, Sam's asleep in the back."

"I know," he says to me, "Sam likes a little drive before bed." Because when you were a baby dad used to drive around the block getting you to sleep. So I did, I slid over on that bench seat and cranked Baby up and me and you lit out Sam.

"It was the first time dad let me loose with you in a car. The first time I had you and freedom, my two most favorite things in the whole wide world." Dean pauses and looks over at Sam smiling, but he knows his little brother can see the tears shining there, threatening to spill out.

"And God help me Sammy, but if I didn't think about lighting out with you and the impala." Dean looks away, a hand coming up to rub down his face and stubbly cheeks.

"Why didn't you?" Sam asks gently.

Dean looks at him and smiles through his tears.

"Because I knew what it felt like to be left alone when dad took you and the impala and lit out somewhere...even if he just dropped me off at a library for research it left such a hole, such an ache in me...and I couldn't do that to him, Sam."

Sam nods, swallowing thickly, not saying anything.

"So I drove for a while, and then I pulled into some field and parked Baby, left her running with the heat on for you, and I sat up here," Dean pats the hood, "I sat here and watched the stars and determined that now I had Baby I could do this every year. I could take the impala, drive into the middle of nowhere and sit up on the hood and get my priorities straight."

"And are they?" Sam asks, half in jest, "Are they straight this year?"

"You poured the whiskey, Sammy." Dean says smiling.

"Well," Sam says, pouring them another drink, "I think I, for one, got a clearer picture of your priorities."

Both boys throw back their heads and swallow down the pleasant burn of expensive whiskey.

"Yeah," Dean nearly hums, finally succumbing to an alcohol induced haze, "You and I have Father Time to thank for that."

Sam smiles. It seems they both have a clearer picture of the man who Dean is.

the end.

Thank you for going on this little adventure with me, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

There's more coming all the time, so stay tuned!

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